The Karamazov Brothers

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  ‘Where have you been?’ I asked him.

  ‘I,’ he said, ‘I, I think I’ve forgotten something… my handkerchief, I think… Well, perhaps I haven’t forgotten anything after all, let me sit down…’

  He sat down on a chair. I stood beside him. ‘Won’t you sit down too?’ he said. I sat down. We sat there for about two minutes; he gazed at me, and suddenly he smiled—I shall never forget that smile—then he got up, hugged me closely, and kissed me…

  ‘Be sure, my friend,’ he said, ‘be sure to remember that I came back to see you a second time. Do you hear me, Zinovy, I want you to remember that!’

  It was the first time he had called me by my name. And then he left. ‘Tomorrow,’ I thought to myself.

  And so it came about. I did not know that evening that it was his birthday the next day. I had not been out anywhere recently, and consequently couldn’t have found out from anyone. On that day every year he used to hold a large reception, which the whole town would attend. And so it was this time. When dinner was over, he walked to the middle of the room with a document in his hand—a formal denunciation of himself, addressed to his superiors. And as his superiors were in fact present, he proceeded there and then to read out the document to the assembled company. It contained a full and detailed description of his crime: ‘I cast myself out as a monster from the community of men, I have seen the light,’ he concluded, ‘I want to suffer!’ Whereupon he produced and laid on the table everything that he imagined would testify to his crime and that he had been keeping for fourteen years: the deceased’s gold jewellery, which he had appropriated in order to deflect suspicion from himself, her locket and crucifix, taken from her neck—the locket contained a portrait of her bridegroom—her notebook and finally two letters: a letter from the bridegroom informing her of his imminent arrival, and her reply, which she had started and had left unfinished on the table, intending to post it the following day. He had taken both those letters—why? And why had he kept them for the next fourteen years, instead of destroying them as evidence? And this is what happened: everyone was shocked and astonished, and no one wanted to believe him; they listened to him with extreme curiosity, as to one deranged, and a few days later it was universally accepted that the poor devil had gone out of his mind. His superiors and the judiciary had to pursue the matter, but then they suspended proceedings; although the personal belongings and letters which had been produced aroused suspicion, it was nevertheless decided that, however genuine they proved to be, it would still not be possible to secure a safe conviction on the strength of this evidence alone. As for her belongings, since he was an acquaintance of hers she could have given them to him to be held in trust. Indeed, I heard that, with the help of many of the deceased’s relatives and acquaintances, the true ownership of the items was subsequently confirmed beyond all shadow of a doubt. But again, the case was not destined to be concluded. About five days later it was learned that the unfortunate man had fallen ill and that there were fears for his life. What illness it was, I cannot say; some said it was heart trouble, and then it became known that, on his wife’s insistence, medical opinion had been sought and he had been diagnosed mentally disturbed. Although people were eager to question me I disclosed nothing, but when I wanted to visit him I was prevented from doing so for a long time, mainly by his wife. ‘It was you’, she said, ‘who upset him; he had always been melancholic, and in the last year everyone had noticed he was becoming unusually neurotic and was behaving strangely, and then you came along and destroyed him completely; all that reading was just too much for him, he hadn’t left your place for a whole month.’ And it wasn’t just his wife—I was attacked and accused by everybody in the town. ‘It’s all your fault,’ they said. I held my peace, but there was joy in my heart, for I could see the undoubted mercy of God towards the man who had triumphed over himself and brought about his own punishment. As for his mental illness, I doubted it. At last, wishing to bid me farewell, he insisted that I should be allowed to see him. As soon as I entered his room I saw that not only his days, but indeed his hours were numbered. He was weak, breathless, his complexion sallow, his hands shaking, but his eyes were full of serenity and joy.

  ‘I did it!’ he said. ‘I’ve been wanting to see you for a long time, why didn’t you come?’

  I did not tell him that I had not been allowed to see him.

  ‘God has taken pity on me and is calling me to Him. I know I am dying, but I feel happiness and peace for the first time after so many years. As soon as I had done what I had to, I immediately felt heaven fill my soul. I now have the courage to love and kiss my children. People don’t believe me, no one believed me then, neither my wife nor my judges; and my children will never believe me. In this, I see God’s mercy towards my children. I shall die and my name will remain honourable in their memory. And now I sense the presence of God, and my heart overflows with joy as if I were in paradise… I have done my duty…’

  He stopped, short of breath, squeezed my hand warmly, and looked at me with burning eyes. But our conversation did not last long, for his wife was constantly coming in and out and looking in on us. He managed to whisper to me, however:

  ‘Do you remember that occasion when I came to see you the second time, at midnight? I even asked you specially not to forget it. Do you know why I came back? I came back to kill you!’

  I shuddered.

  ‘I walked out that time into the darkness and wandered through the streets, struggling with my inner self. And suddenly I felt such hatred for you that my heart could hardly bear it. “He’s the only one”, I thought, “who has me in his clutches and can judge me; now I can no longer escape tomorrow’s punishment, because he knows everything.” And it wasn’t that I was afraid that you’d report me (the idea never occurred to me), but I thought: “How am I going to look him in the eye if I don’t denounce myself?” And even if you were on the other side of the world, but alive, I would still not be able to abide the thought that you were alive, that you knew everything and were judging me. And I began to hate you, as though you were responsible for everything. I returned to you that time, remembering that there was a knife lying on your table. I sat down and asked you to sit down too, and I spent a whole minute thinking. If I’d killed you, I’d have certainly perished for that murder, even if I hadn’t reported the previous crime. But I wasn’t thinking about that at all, nor did I want to just then. I simply hated you, and wanted to avenge myself upon you with all my strength. But the Lord overcame the devil in my heart. I tell you, though, you had never been closer to death.’

  A week later he was dead. The whole town followed his coffin to the grave. The archpriest delivered a moving oration. People wept over the terrible illness that had ended his days. But after he was buried the whole town ostracized me and stopped inviting me to their homes. True, some people—very few at first, but in increasing numbers as time went by—began to believe that his testimony had been true, and they began to visit me frequently and to question me excitedly and curiously, for men love to see the downfall of the righteous and their humiliation. But I maintained my silence and soon left the town for good, and five months later the Good Lord set me on a firm and righteous path, and I give thanks for His invisible hand, which has been guiding me so surely ever since. As for God’s servant Mikhail, I remember him constantly in my prayers, even unto this day.

  3

  CONCERNING THE DISCOURSES AND TEACHINGS OF STARETS ZOSIMA

  (e) Some thoughts on the Russian monk and his likely significance

  FATHERS and teachers, what is a monk? In our enlightened world this word nowadays is used ironically by some, and by others even as a term of abuse. And things are going from bad to worse. It is true, oh yes, it is true that amongst the monks too there are many parasites, sensualists, pleasure-seekers, and impudent rogues. This has been noted by educated laymen: ‘You’, they say, ‘are sluggards and useless members of society, living off other people’s labour, shameless beggars all of you.�
� And yet there are many monks who are meek and humble, who long only to pray fervently in peace and solitude. But they are seldom mentioned, they are passed over in silence, and what surprise it would cause if I were to say that from these meek souls, yearning for solitary prayer, Russia’s salvation might perhaps spring once again! For in silence they have indeed been preparing ‘for that day and that hour, for that month and that year’. In their solitude they have been preserving Christ’s image unspoiled and magnificent in the purity of divine truth, as handed down from the earliest fathers, apostles, and martyrs, and when it becomes necessary they will bring it forth to confront the sullied truth of the world. This is a profound thought. It is from the East that the star will shine forth.

  That is what I think about monks, but am I wrong, am I being presumptuous? Just look at the world and at the laity, who consider that they are superior to God’s people: have they not distorted the image of God and his truth? They have science, but a science wholly subservient to the senses. As for the spiritual world, the highest pinnacle of man’s existence, that has been rejected completely, banished with a degree of triumphalism, not to say hatred. The world has celebrated liberty, especially in recent times, and what is it that we see in this liberty of theirs? Nothing but slavery and suicide! For the world says: ‘You have needs, therefore satisfy them, for you have the same rights as the most illustrious and the richest amongst you. Do not be afraid to satisfy them, nay multiply them,’ such is the present-day teaching of the world. It is in this that they see freedom. And so, what comes of this right to multiply one’s needs? Isolation and spiritual suicide for the rich, envy and murder for the poor, for though rights have been granted, the means of material gratification have not yet been prescribed. We are assured that the longer time goes on, the closer the world draws towards fraternal communion, when distances will be bridged and thoughts transmitted through the air. Oh, do not believe in such a union of men. By interpreting freedom as the propagation and immediate gratification of needs, people distort their own nature, for they engender in themselves a multitude of pointless and foolish desires, habits, and incongruous stratagems. Their lives are motivated only by mutual envy, sensuality, and ostentation. To give dinner-parties, to travel, to have carriages, titles, and slavishly devoted servants is considered such a necessity that, in order to satisfy this need, people will even sacrifice their lives, honour, and sense of humanity, and if they cannot satisfy it, they will even commit suicide. The same thing is true for those who are not rich, but in the case of the poor the inability to satisfy their needs and feelings of envy are for the present drowned in drink. But instead of wine, they will soon quench their thirst with blood, for that is what they are being led to. I ask you: are such men free? I once knew ‘a fighter for a cause’ who told me himself that when he was deprived of tobacco in prison he was in such agony that he nearly betrayed his ‘cause’ just to get some tobacco. And people like him say: ‘I shall go and fight for mankind.’ But where will he go and what is he capable of? A short burst of activity, perhaps—but he will not be able to sustain it for long. And so it is not surprising that instead of being free, people have become enslaved, and instead of serving the cause of brotherly love and human harmony, they have, as my mysterious visitor and teacher once told me in my youth, fallen into disharmony and isolation. So the idea of service to mankind, of brotherhood and human solidarity, grows ever weaker in the world, and truly it is now treated almost with derision, for how is one to shed one’s habits, whither can the bondsman turn, if he has grown so accustomed to gratifying the multifarious needs which are of his own devising? He is isolated, and the world at large means nothing to him. We have reached a stage at which we have surrounded ourselves with more things, but have less joy.

  The monastic way is altogether different. Obedience, fasting, and prayer are now almost objects of ridicule, but it is precisely in them that the path to real and genuine freedom is to be found: I sever myself from needs which are superfluous and unnecessary, I humble my selfish and proud will and punish it with obedience, and so, with God’s help, I attain spiritual freedom and with it spiritual joy! Who is the more capable of conceiving a great idea and of renouncing the world to serve it—the rich man in his isolation or the man liberated from the tyranny of material things and habits? People take the monk to task for having isolated himself: ‘You have cut yourself off in order to seek salvation behind monastery walls, but you have forgotten about brotherly service to mankind.’ We shall see though who will do more for the cause of brotherly love. For it is they who are isolated, not us, except that they do not see it. Even in times of old, it was from amongst our brethren that national figures arose, so why should they not arise now too? These same meek, humble, and abstemious recluses will rise up and champion a great cause. Russia’s salvation is in its people. Russian monasticism has, from ancient times, been at one with the people. If the people are isolated, we too are isolated. The people share our faith, and a non-believing politician will achieve nothing in Russia, even if he is sincere at heart and a man of genius. Remember this. The people will confront the atheist and overcome him, and there will emerge a Russia united in the Orthodox faith. Cherish the people and let them not be disheartened. Nurture them in silence. That will be your monastic challenge, for this nation is the bearer of the word of God.

  (f) Concerning masters and servants and whether it is possible for masters and servants to be brothers in spirit

  Good Lord, who would deny that even the common people are plagued by sin. And, by the very hour, the flame of corruption is spreading downwards from above, even for all to see. Isolation has afflicted the people, too, we already have kulaks and bloodsuckers; the merchant is getting greedier and greedier for honours, and although he has no schooling whatsoever, he nevertheless strives to pass for an educated man; full of scandalous disregard for ancient custom, he is even ashamed of the faith of his fathers. He consorts with princes, and yet he himself is no more than a depraved muzhik. The people are debauched by drink, which they can no longer forgo. And how much cruelty there is towards the family, the wife, and even the children; and all because of drink. I have seen even ten-year-old children in factories, weak, sickly, worn out, and already degenerate. Airless sweatshops, noisy machinery, working all hours of the day, obscene language, and drink, nothing but drink—is that what the soul of a little child needs? He needs sunlight, children’s games, and to be set a good example in everything, as well as some love, be it ever so little. Monks, this must not go on, there must be no abuse of children. Go forth and proclaim this as a matter of urgency. But God will save Russia, for though the common man may be degenerate and incapable of resisting the stench of sin, he nevertheless knows that his sin is accursed by God and that, in committing it, he is behaving badly. Hence our people continue to believe steadfastly in the truth, to accept God, and to shed tears of compassion. The upper classes are quite another matter. Drawn by science, they want to create a just world by means of the intellect alone, but, unlike former times, without Christ, and they have already pronounced that there is no crime, no sin. From their point of view this is quite correct: for if there is no God, how can there be any crime? In Europe the people are already in violent revolt against the wealthy, and their leaders everywhere are inciting them to bloody confrontation and preaching that their anger is justified. But ‘cursed be their anger, for it was fierce’.* Yet God will save Russia, as He has saved it many times before. Salvation will come from the people, from their faith and humility. Nurture the faith of the people, fathers and teachers, it is not a dream: all my life I have been astounded by the noble and genuine dignity of our great people, I have experienced it myself, I can vouch for it, I have seen it and marvelled; yes, I have seen it, in spite of the stench of sin and the wretched state of our people. They are not servile, in spite of two centuries of slavery.* They are free in manner and deed, and bear no rancour whatsoever. Nor are they vindictive or jealous. ‘You are famous, you are rich, you
are clever and talented—good luck to you, and God bless you. I respect you, but remember that I’m a human being, too. The fact that I respect you without envy is an expression of my human dignity.’ Indeed, even if they don’t actually say this (for they do not know how to say it yet), that is how they behave, I myself have seen it, I myself have experienced it; and, would you believe it, the poorer and humbler our common Russian man, the more he embodies this noble truth, for the rich kulaks and bloodsuckers amongst them have already been corrupted in many ways, and much, much of this is due to our negligence and inattention! But God will save his people, for Russia’s greatness lies in its humility. I dream about the future, and I seem to see it clearly already: for it will come about that even the most corrupt man among our wealthy will become ashamed of his riches when confronted by the poor man, and the latter, on seeing this humility, will understand and yield to him with joy, and will respond with tenderness to his noble shame. Believe me, that is how it will end: that’s the way everything is going. Equality is only to be found in the spiritual dignity of man, and nowhere save in Russia will this be understood. If there are brothers, there will be brotherhood, and there will be no sharing save in brotherhood. We stand guard over the image of Christ, which will shine forth to the whole world like a precious diamond… It shall be, it shall be!

  Fathers and teachers, something happened to me once which moved me deeply. In my travels, when I was in the provincial capital K, I met my former batman Afanasy eight years after he had left my service. He happened to notice me by chance in the market-place, recognized me, rushed up to me and, my goodness, how glad he was, he was so overjoyed that he practically threw himself at me. ‘My God, sir, is it really you? Can it really be you I see?’ He took me back to his house. He had already left the army and was now married and had two infant children. He scratched a living from petty trading at a market stall. His room was poorly furnished, but clean and cheerful. He offered me a seat, put the samovar on, and sent word to fetch his wife, just as though my visit to his home had transformed the day into a festive occasion. He brought his children to me. ‘Bless them, father.’ ‘Who am I to bless them,’ I replied. ‘I’m just a simple and humble monk, I’ll pray to God for them, but as for you, Afanasy Pavlovich, I’ve always prayed for you every day, ever since that day,’ I said, ‘because it was with you that everything began.’ And I explained it to him as best I could. Poor man, he looked at me in disbelief, he could not believe that I, his former master, an officer, was sitting there before him now, looking like that, dressed as a monk, and he even burst out crying. ‘Why are you crying?’ I said to him. ‘You, whom I can never forget, should be rejoicing for me with your whole being, my dear fellow, for my path ahead is bright and happy.’ He didn’t say much, just ooh’ed and ah’ed and kept shaking his head with compassion. ‘Where’, he asked me, ‘has all your wealth gone?’ I replied: ‘I gave it to the monastery, and we now all live as a community.’ After tea, I was starting to make my farewells, when he suddenly produced fifty kopecks as an offering for the monastery, and I realized that he was trying to slip another fifty into my hand. ‘That’s for you,’ he said, ‘for a very unusual pilgrim, it may come in useful perhaps, father.’ I accepted his fifty kopecks, bowed to him and to his wife, and left in joy, thinking along the way: ‘Here we are, the two of us, he in his own home, I on the road, and both probably marvelling and beaming with joy, with our hearts full of happiness, and musing over how God brought about this chance meeting.’ I have never seen him again. I was his master, and he was my servant, but after we had embraced each other in love and spiritual tenderness a great human bond was forged between us. I have thought about this a great deal, and here is what I think now: is it so beyond the bounds of imagination that this great and simple-hearted bond could be forged between our Russian people everywhere and in its own good time? I believe that this will come about, and that the time is nigh.